Too Wicked to Wed (10 page)

The earl didn’t bother inquiring whether the man was right-handed.

“Mr. Daggett, can’t you…” Concern squeezed Alexa’s appeal to little more than a whisper.

Connor’s face had turned alarmingly ashen, the contours of his profile nearly indistinguishable from the white damask of the pillows. In contrast, the tangle of dark hair and the harsh shadows beneath his cheekbone stood out like smudges of cinder. By the clench of his jaw, it was apparent he was in a great deal of pain.

“If you have finished your brandy, Lady A, perhaps you would be so kind as to pour a small draught for His Lordship. And then come around and hold this basin.” Cameron had staunched the worst of the bleeding. After coaxing a swallow of the spirits—to which he had surreptitiously added a liberal dose of laudanum—through the earl’s compressed lips, he reached for a sponge.

“Lady Alexa.” It was only then that Connor so much as acknowledged her presence in the room, and then only obliquely. “Damnation,” he swore weakly. “S-she’s in danger…”

“Rest easy, Wolf. She is safe now.”

“No, she is not. I—I said her name. M-must get her away,” insisted the earl. “Away from T-Town…” The words trailed off in a fuzzed groan.

Seeing the earl had lapsed back into unconsciousness, Cameron set to the grim task of cleaning the ugly wound.

Her own hands so unsteady that water was in danger of sloshing onto the counterpane, Alexa was grateful for his show of cool efficiency. He worked in methodical silence, so she, too, refrained from speech, content to watch the skill with which he handled the delicate job.

“Have I sprouted purple spots, Lady A?”

She realized he had finished with the last bit of sponging and was now regarding her with an expression of quizzical amusement.

“Perhaps you do not care for the colors of champagne and salmon in a gentleman’s waistcoat? Or is it the diamond stud in my earlobe?”

“Forgive me. I was staring, wasn’t I? How abominably rude.” Alexa tried to match his note of detached humor. Yet she couldn’t keep a slight quiver from her lips. “B-but then, I have trespassed terribly on your good will already, barging in on you at such an ungodly hour, and b-bearing an armful of trouble.”

He dismissed her apology with an airy wave. “You are welcome in my humble abode at any hour.”

Her eyes could not help but follow the sweep of his hand. Taking in the refined elegance of the carved mahogany armoire, the rich brocades and slubbed silks of the furnishings, and the delicate watercolor sketches of Venice hung over the mantel, she found her expression turning quizzical. The juxtapositions were unexpected. Intriguing. Mysterious.

Rather like the man himself.

“Well, perhaps not precisely humble.” He grinned, as if reading her mind. “I may be known as one of the rapacious Hellhounds—a wild, dangerous beast. But in private I do enjoy my creature comforts.”

She replied with a tentative smile.

“I trust you won’t ruin my reputation,” he murmured. “Very few people have ever seen the inside of my home.”

“I don’t have a wagging tongue, Mr. Daggett. I promise that your secret is safe with me.”

“Speaking of secrets…” He fingered the tip of his chin. “We are faced with a devilishly delicate situation.”

Alexa suddenly realized that perhaps she had placed the gentleman in an awkward position. “I—I hope you don’t mind that I brought Lord Killingworth here. I couldn’t think of where else to go with a half-dead gentleman draped around my neck—that is, I pray he is only half dead.”

“I assure you, it will take more than a shot in the dark to drop the Irish Wolfhound in his tracks. Over the years, he has dodged a great many efforts to put a period to his existence. No reason to think his luck is going to run out now.”

“Have you and the earl been friends for a long time? You seem to know a great deal about him.”

“Since we were young pups, assigned to General Broughton’s staff in Lisbon. As for being acquainted with his history, I’m afraid to say, our escapades since then could fill a rather good-sized book.”

Alexa looked down at one of the Moroccan bound volumes on the bedside table.
Oh, what I wouldn’t give to read those pages!

“Not, you understand, that the earl’s personal particulars are of any interest to me,” she hastened to add, hoping she sounded suitably indifferent.

“Of course not.” Cameron’s mouth twitched. “Why would they be?”

Fearing that if her face turned any pinker, it would match the puce in the draperies, she rose abruptly and carried the basin back to the dressing table.

She was saved from any further embarrassment by a knock on the door.

“That will be Thurlowe.” He called for the surgeon to enter and made room by the bedside.

The ex-soldier wasted no time in pleasantries. Nodding a cursory greeting to Cameron, he rolled up sleeves and made a quick examination of the unconscious earl. “I’ve seen worse,” he muttered laconically. Opening his bag, he removed several sharp instruments. “Send the lady out,” he ordered without looking up. “Unless you intend to pay me for tending to more than one patient.”

“I’ll have you know I have never fainted in my life,” said Alexa, summoning a show of indignation. However, to herself she admitted there was always the possibility of a first time. The scalpel bore a rather gruesome resemblance to an implement from the Spanish Inquisition.

“He has a point, Lady A,” said Cameron softly.

Several, in fact. The other items laid out on the table looked equally menacing.

“Why not step out into the hallway? Thurlowe will assure you I have ample experience in serving as his assistant.”

The surgeon grunted as he tested the edge of the blade against his thumb.

“Very well,” she agreed, marching for the door before another little lurch of her insides necessitated a headlong flight.

Chapter Nine

I
t was all over rather quickly. Thurlowe emerged wearing a satisfied smile. He passed by her without a word, intent on tucking a bulging purse—along with what looked to be a ball of misshapen lead—into his waistcoat pocket.

Cameron was a bit more forthcoming. “All is well,” he murmured. “The bullet came out cleanly. The Wolfhound won’t be waking any time soon, as Thurlowe thought it best to administer another dose of laudanum.” Taking her arm, he turned her away from the bedchamber door. “If you don’t mind me saying so, you, too, look as though you could do with a medicinal draught. I have an excellent Amontillado sherry downstairs…”

Even if she had wished to do so, Alexa realized protest was futile. Like the ocean tides, Cameron Daggett exerted a subtle yet inexorable pull. It was impossible to resist.
Caught in a silky, swirling current.
And if rumor was true, she was not the only female to feel that way. It was said…

Such musings were drowned by the soft splash of the wine. He handed her a drink, then poured one for himself.

“You know, Lady A, I think we had better have a little talk—a council of war, if you will.” He expelled a small sigh. “Would you care to start by telling me how the Wolfhound came to have a large hole drilled between his ribs?”

Alexa proceeded to do so. The account, however, took rather longer than she anticipated. Even though the earl’s friend knew about the wager, she decided she might as well tell the whole story, starting with her night in disguise.

In for a penny, in for a pound.
Seeing as she had come this far, there was no point in holding anything back.

To his credit, Cameron listened without so much as batting an eye.

“Hmmm.” He moved to the Sheraton sideboard and topped off his sherry. Perching a hip on the inlaid wood, he raised his glass in silent contemplation of the amber spirits. The candlelight winking off the faceted crystal hid his expression. Save for the swish of the liquid there was silence.

Alexa was beginning to fear she had been too candid. Even a man of admittedly less-than-rigid moral scruples could have his tolerance bent to the point of snapping.

But when Cameron finally spoke, there was no hint of censure. “I am beginning to understand why your brother was not overly shocked by some of the exploits you detailed in your letters. Stunned, perhaps, but not shocked. It seems he was used to your unconventional behavior.”

“If you mean I am not a typical milk and water miss, I take that as a compliment,” replied Alexa.

“It was meant as one.” The wry note in his voice then deepened to a more serious tone. “All joking aside, Lady A, the fact that whoever is responsible for the attack now knows your name, and your, er, association with the Wolfhound, is cause for grave concern.”

“But there is no possible way they can be privy to our business connection!” she protested. “Both Henry and Lord Haddan promised not to breathe a word of the wager to anyone.”

“It doesn’t matter whether your assailants know of the vowel,” he reasoned. “That you and the earl were together, at such an hour and such a place, bespeaks of a certain intimacy—regardless of whether that is true or not.” Cameron smoothed a wrinkle from his sleeve. “I must agree with Connor’s opinion that is too dangerous for you to remain in London. Indeed, all things considered, I think you ought not return to your aunt’s townhouse.”

Alexa set down her glass rather heavily.

“I shall spin a convincing story—with all due modesty, I am rather good at that. And ladies of a certain age tend to trust me.” He rose. “In the morning, she shall spread the word that a family emergency required your immediate return home. It’s a reasonable explanation, and one that is eminently believable. The
ton
won’t think to question it.” He rose. “I will have you on the road to Yorkshire, just as soon as I can arrange a carriage—”

“No!” The fierceness of her objection echoed the earl’s earlier growl.

His brow arched in mild surprise. “But your brother—”

“Has just set off with his new bride to visit our father in Scotland,” said Alexa quickly. “And it promises to be a bit of an ordeal, seeing as he means to settle a number of thorny issues between them.” Her chin edged up. “Seb and Nicola deserve some peace and quiet in which to settle into marriage. There is no reason to turn their lives topsy-turvy. I—I would rather handle this on my own.”

“Ah.” The pause was barely perceptible. “I see.”

Was she so transparent?
With laughable ease, his gaze seemed to penetrate the arguments she had sought to wrap around her innermost desires.

“Is there, perchance, another reason you are so adamantly opposed to returning home?” he asked softly.

She left off pleating the folds of her skirts, deciding she might as well abandon her clumsy attempts at hiding the truth. “I can’t simply up and abandon the earl. We are partners, after all, and I feel partly responsible for his current troubles. If he had not been worried over the vowel…if he had not felt obliged to escort me to the hackney…” Recalling his torn coat and bloodied shirt, she felt her throat constrict. “He can’t remain in Town either.”

“That’s true.” A frown pinched at the corners of Cameron’s mouth. “Clearly he can’t go to ground in the Lair. And this place isn’t safe either, given that our friendship is common knowledge.” He swore softly. “It’s the devil’s own timing. Haddan has been called away by his mother’s illness, and I…”

Alexa followed his gaze to the doorway, where a black greatcoat and kidskin gloves lay folded atop a small satchel.

“…I was just on my way out of Town. The matter is quite urgent, but if I must—”

“No!” interrupted Alexa. “I don’t wish to wreak havoc in your life, as well as the earl’s.” Still staring at his luggage, she found herself adding, “Given the reputation of the Hellhounds, I imagine you have a
cher ami
set up somewhere whom you are anxious to meet with.”

“My dear girl, I do indeed have an assignation with a lady, but it is not what you think.” A hint of amusement edged his tone. “She has been dead for several hundred years. However, her ethereal beauty has been immortalized on canvas, and I’ve a client in Shropshire who is just dying to have her hanging in his bedchamber.”

It took a moment for his meaning to sink in. “You mean to say you are planning to…purloin a painting?” Despite her concern for the earl, she couldn’t help being intrigued.

“As you see, I have rather expensive tastes, and given my present position in life, I should be hard-pressed to afford them if I did not find a way to augment my meager savings.” He gave her a conspiratorial wink. “The Wolfhound is not the only gentleman who works for a living. But again, I trust that you will keep my little secret.”

She was beginning to understand why ladies were fascinated by the Hellhounds.

“You and Connor are certainly a most unconventional set of rogues.” Her mouth crooked. “I don’t dare venture to guess what Lord Haddan does when he is not drinking or gambling.”

“Oh, Haddan’s activities are actually quite respectable, though also a trifle unorthodox. He…” Cameron slid down from his perch. “But never mind. Gryff’s private affairs are not of paramount concern right now—nor are mine.”

His boots moved lightly, noiselessly across the Turkey carpet as he took a turn before the hearth. “To keep a step ahead of the jackals on Connor’s trail, I see no other way to deal with this, save to put off my rendezvous.” He sighed. “A pity, seeing as the lady sails for Rotterdam in the morning.”

“You don’t strike me as the sort of man who gives up so easily, Mr. Daggett,” she appealed. “Surely between the two of us, we can think of an alternative.”

“The thing is, given the Wolfhound’s ferocious temperament, there aren’t many people he can count as friends. Your brother is one of the few who might be willing to help.”

“I told you, I would rather not appeal to Sebastian,” she said quickly. “There
must
be somewhere else.”

Cameron gave the matter some thought. “Well, now that you mention it…” He left off twisting at the fob dangling from his watch chain. “Connor did inherit the ancestral estate—a bit of barren hilltop located along a remote part of the South Dorset coastline.”

Alexa held her breath.

“On account of the entail, it was the one family possession his father could not gamble away,” he mused. “But it has been pretty much abandoned since the death of the old earl. From what I gather, there’s naught but an old housekeeper and her husband in residence. The Wolfhound himself hasn’t visited the place in years.”

“Which makes it an ideal choice.” Alexa needed no more than an instant to make her decision. “No one will guess that is where we have gone.”

“
We?
” For the first time in their acquaintance, Alexa saw Cameron react with unmasked emotion. “Lady A, you cannot mean to accompany him?”

“Why not?” she countered. “We both need a place to hide, and as he is in no condition to travel by himself, it kills two birds with one stone.”

His usual sardonic humor was by this time back in place. “It will kill a great deal more than that. Starting with your own reputation if a whisper of such impropriety reaches the
ton
.”

“I am willing to take the chance.”

“Are you? The wave of scandal would make a typhoon look like a tempest in a teapot. And its fury would drag down not only you, but the rest of your family.”

Alexa swallowed a tiny gulp and tried to sound a good deal more confident than she felt. “Well, I shall just have to take care it doesn’t come to that.”

An oath escaped his lips, followed quickly by a harried sigh. “You appear deucedly determined to flirt with fire, despite the danger of being burned to a crisp.”

“Ha! Coming from a Hellhound, I would venture to say that’s rather like the pot calling the kettle black,” she countered.

He had the grace to color. “It’s different. Because…er…because…”

“Because I am a female? What utter fustian!” Sensing she had struck a sensitive nerve, she plunged on. “We are just as capable of decisive thought and action—despite the quirk of plumbing.”

“At times like these, I wish I might turn off the spigot,” he replied. “I have the utmost respect for a lady’s intellect but there are the practical considerations I have mentioned. Along with the very real threat of physical harm to your person.” He fingered the silky tails of his cravat. “And speaking of killings, Sebastian would likely stick my head on a pikestaff if I were to go along with this.”

“That should not be intimidating to a man whose penchant for writing lewd limericks had a certain foreign prince threatening to feed his testicles to the Tower ravens.”

“Ah, so you heard that rumor, did you?” He paused. “Actually it was the dancing bears at Pierson’s Circus. And your source left out the part about the bits of my person being sautéed with garlic and white wine. If nothing else, Montoni—he was Italian, of course—had a delicious sense of humor.”

Alexa bit back a laugh.

“In retrospect, my peccadilloes may appear humorous, but this present situation is no laughing matter, Lady A.”

“Please.” She cut off any further debate with a simple plea. “Won’t you help me? I feel I owe it to Lord Killingworth to see him safely out of Town and away from his enemies. Once he’s out of danger, I can continue on to Yorkshire without anyone being the wiser.”

Cameron rubbed at his jaw.

“I am sure that a man of your colorful imagination can help my aunt quell any gossip here in Town,” she went on. “You seem to have quite a bit of experience in fabricating a…”

“Lie?” he suggested.

“I would rather think of it as a red herring.”

“Ah, well, if you put it that way…” He exaggerated a sigh. “Scarlet is one of my favorite hues.” His steps were already angling for the Louis XIV escritoire set in the far corner of the room. “Let me think—we shall need an unmarked carriage and a competent coachman…a quick visit to your aunt…a carefully worded message for Sebastian…”

“Thank you, Mr. Daggett,” she called softly. “I promise, you won’t regret this.”

“Oh, it is not
my
hide that I am worried about, Lady A.”